


Steal My Heart (There Are No Returns)

by naboojakku



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Academic rivals, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo is bae, Ben is 28, Child Abandonment, College Rivals, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Issues, Guilt, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Rey (Star Wars) is a Mess, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey is 18, Rey is a shy lil thief, Reylo Prompt, Theft, Young Rey, age gap, ben wants to take care of rey so bad lol, but it's reylo so like who cares, eh sorta, feel good ending, hunger issues, insta-love?, older Ben, pick pocket, reylo prompts, this one hurt ha ha haaaa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboojakku/pseuds/naboojakku
Summary: Stealing Ben's wallet might be the best move Rey's ever made.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 55
Kudos: 216





	Steal My Heart (There Are No Returns)

**Author's Note:**

> **A modern one-shot inspired by the famous @reylo-prompts account on Twitter! Good for my productivity but not for my unabated horniness. Very much hurt/comfort. A little introspective. S-A-D.**
> 
> **PROMPT:**  
>  Rey: Hey  
> Ben: Did you know you stole something from me when we met yesterday?  
> R: Sorry, I'll return your wallet.  
> B: You stole my heart.
> 
> **TW for mentions/descriptions of PTSD, homelessness, starvation, foster care trauma.**

Rey makes her move at the end of class.

Her philosophy professor wraps up their long-winded lecture with a long-winded conclusion. He then, long-windedly, explains their homework for the week - short-answer questions, two chapters in their textbook, and a six-page essay. 

The class is only half paying attention. The students nearest the door are already packed up and edging out of their seats like racehorses at the starting line. The students by the windows are zippering backpacks, collecting highlighters, and squinting against the brilliant noon-day sun, maybe searching for friends or trying to remember where they parked their car. 

Rey is smack in the middle of the classroom, stuck amidst a crowd of sweaty, eager freshmen yearning for freedom. She’s been packed and ready for the last fifteen minutes. Her palms are sweaty, fingers opening and closing around the piece of fruit left on her desk this morning - today it’s a banana. Sometimes it’s an apple, or a pear, or an orange. All she knows is that - since the beginning of the semester - she’s entered class each day to find food on her desk. She never questions it. 

The professor dismisses them, and the students practically explode out the door. There’s a temporary jam-up near the professor’s desk, and Rey makes sure she’s caught in the center of the chaos. 

Just as she expected, with the professor directly in front of him and nowhere to go, fellow student and her academic rival Benjamin Solo asks a question about the lesson. The professor easily answers (it’s a relatively straightforward question, as far as philosophy goes), but it’s enough. He’s distracted. Now or never. 

Rey inches past them and slips her hand into Ben’s back pocket. The denim is scratchy, but she meets no resistance as she deftly palms his wallet. Then she’s out the door, leaving Ben and everyone else in her dust. With experience born of years of practice, she immediately melts into the buzzing crowds.

Heart in her throat, Rey doesn’t so much as pause to take a breath until she’s halfway across campus.

At the height of summer, the campus is less full than it would be during the regular academic year, but there are still droves of students on the pathways and in the streets. The expansive lawns are green and well manicured, the pavement filled with tour buses and truck vendors. Heat simmers in the air, distorting the crosswalk signals.

Even in her shorts and tee-shirt, hoodie tied around her waist, Rey is sweating buckets. A line of perspiration drips between her breasts, and she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. Next to a locally famous cafe is an alley, and Rey darts into the shade. 

After a quick glance around, and with shaking hands, Rey extracts Ben’s wallet.

It’s new leather, dark brown and shiny, and it smells like his cologne - sandalwood. Rey squeezes her eyes shut, forcing Ben’s smirking but handsome face from her mind. They’ve been rivals since day one, but that doesn’t mean he deserves this. In fact, she’s imagined the two of them might hang-out sometime after class, despite their not-insubstantial age gap, but now she’s effectively eliminated any possibility of friendship. 

She flips through a few grocery store discount cards - really, Ben? - and ignores the GameStop frequent customer card. No use for a Target RedCard, nor a rewards membership for Hallmark - REALLY, Ben? Finally, Rey’s fingers freeze on the last piece of plastic. 

Ben’s debit card. 

She inhales slowly. 

A minute’s search reveals an obvious “in-case-of-emergency” credit card and twenty bucks in cash. 

It’ll have to do. 

Rey shakes her head. No, no, this is _fine_. In fact, this is _great_. She couldn’t have asked for a better outcome. (Well, aside from finding, like, a million dollars.) She needs to be satisfied with this. She _is_ satisfied. 

If she’s careful, really, _really_ careful, she can save enough to last her two weeks. 

_I just have to be smart about this_ , Rey tells herself, stuffing the cards back in the wallet and the wallet in the front pocket of her backpack. 

With a confidence born of sheer determination and with _pep in her step_ , as her friend Rose Tico would say, Rey goes on the hunt.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her first stop is the Niima Quick Shoppe on the corner of University Street and Corellia Avenue. 

It’s after four, which means most people are done with classes for the day, so the little convenience store’s as busy as it gets during the summer semester. Which, really, isn’t that busy. A half a dozen customers at most. 

The bell at the front door tinkles, announcing Rey’s arrival. She grabs a courtesy basket and sets off down the first aisle, her mind filled with her first priority: toiletries. With rapid-fire calculations running in the back of her head, Rey slowly picks out the essentials. Soap. Toothpaste. Travel-size body wash. There’s a two-for-one sale happening, conveniently, so she tosses another one in the basket. 

Next aisle. Snacks. This is easy. Rey knows what she likes and doesn't dawdle. Peanuts. Peanut butter. Tortilla chips. Trail mix. A sleeve of Oeros. Saltines. She stares longingly at a jumbo bag of beef jerky before adding Cheez-Its instead. Too expensive. 

Third aisle. Feminine products. Three boxes of tampons and one box of panty liners for good measure. She doesn’t mess around with sanitary products. 

Last aisle. Analgesics. A giant bottle of generic Ibuprofen. Cough medicine - the syrup is cheaper than the pills. Claritin for allergies. The pollen around here in the fall is _horrifying_. And lastly some bug spray, which she spots in a miscellaneous aisle on the way to the register. 

Rey places the very full basket on the counter and pushes it towards the cashier. Without a word, the small man begins bagging her items. Rey appreciates his efficiency and organizational skills for a moment, until she realizes he hasn’t touched the computer. 

Because no one’s waiting in line behind her, Rey feels confident enough to say, “Excuse me, sir? Aren’t you going to ring me up for those?” 

The man smiles and continues bagging. 

_Did he...not hear me?_ she wonders, frowning. _No, no, he smiled at me. Maybe he misunderstood._

“Um, sir?”

Nothing. The man places potato chips gently inside the plastic bag and turns the handles toward her. “All finished.”

“Yes…” Someone gets into line behind her. Rey clears her throat and lowers her voice. “But don’t I...have to pay?” 

A single shake of his head. The warm smile is still in place. “Not necessary.” 

Rey fishes for the wallet and gestures with it. “But...but I have money!”

“Have a great day, miss.” The man makes eye contact with the customer behind her, and she knows she’s been politely dismissed.

Slowly, Rey gathers the handles of her two plastic bags and leaves the store. _Are you sure?_ she thinks. _Are you_ really _sure? This has to be a mistake._

She’s confused, but worse, she feels guilty. Like she’s stolen not only from Ben but the mom-and-pop shop too. _I have money,_ she thinks, and then, _Well, not_ my _money…_ And her guilt doubles. 

Swallowing down her emotions, Rey steps into the shadow of an Italian bistro to pack away her new belongings. It’s a snug fit, but her backpack manages to hold it all, leaving her hands free for destination two. 

The thrift store. 

Fondor’s Finds is the biggest thrift store on campus. Housed in an abandoned warehouse, Fondor’s is a single story with over 10,000 items for sale at any given time. This includes clothing, furniture, holiday decor, kitchenware, recreational sports equipment, towering bookshelves filled with used paperbacks, costume jewelry, accessories, and shoes. There are miscellaneous items too like lawn gnomes and vintage 1950s housewife dresses. Or maybe the latter’s just for cosplay. 

Rey pauses in the doorway and inhales the scent of dust and musty cloth. They’re comforting smells. Although she’s only started attending classes at the university recently, she’s frequented the thrift store for years. It’s always been a safe haven for her, especially during The Bad Months. Rey sometimes wandered for _hours_ back then, and not once did the employees kick her out or even make her feel unwelcome. 

This is as close to home as Rey can imagine. And that’s all she can do, really. Imagine.

Rey immediately heads for the junior’s section. There, she carefully paws through tee-shirts, hoodies, sweatshirts, jeans, leggings, shorts, skirts, and pajama sets. She tosses her favorites over her arm, and once it gets too heavy to hold she staggers over to the dressing room. 

Once inside the cramped space, Rey dumps the pile of clothes on the bench and sighs. She has no choice but to turn and face the mirror, and when she does, a very large part of her recoils. The small part that’s left clucks her tongue pityingly and says, “Oh, _Rey_ , oh you poor dear.” 

The examination is not a flattering one. 

She nervously tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. The tiny holes that dot the hem of her shirt are more obvious than they seemed in the mirror this morning, and her shorts are frayed in an unflattering way. Her wardrobe choices scream “no money” rather than “casual fashion.” Less obvious are the missing pieces on her shoes, but Rey knows they’re there, and that’s all that matters. When it rains it doesn’t take long for her socks and shoes to fill with water. 

She presses a gentle finger to the area beneath her eyes. Gray smudges wrinkle the skin. Unhealthy. Unflattering. And unsurprising. Rey can’t remember the last time she got a good night’s rest. She wonders, briefly and embarrassingly, what Ben Solo sees when he looks at her. 

Shaking off these vanities, Rey rapidly tries on the selected clothes, filtering out the obvious _no_ s and setting aside the _maybe_ s. Only a few items make the cut for sure, and by the time she exits the dressing room she’s managed to divy these pieces up into various outfits that she can wear twice a week without anyone noticing. 

Before she hits the register, Rey tallies up the prices in her head. Although the total is low enough that she can use the twenty in cash, she still cringes. The guilt flares again. 

The young cashier does a double take and giggles when Rey dumps her items on the counter. 

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” 

The gleam in the girl’s eyes is unsettling. Rey quickly glances down at herself. No embarrassing nip-slips or stuck pieces of toilet paper anywhere. She frowns. 

“Yes, thank you,” she says cautiously. 

The cashier rings everything up, which puts Rey at ease. Her thoughts wander to her philosophy class and her nemesis. Or rival. Whatever. 

Ben Solo has always been infuriating; he’s obscenely tall, often impulsive, possesses a sense of dry humor that makes it hard to stay mad, styles his hair like a shampoo model, and subliminally (she thinks so, anyway) sends out such strong waves of arrogance that Rey sometimes has to leave the room during lecture, lest she strike him upside the head. 

Even more aggravating than his attitude is the fact that Rey can’t quite figure him out. She’ll often gaze distractedly at the board in class, caught up in the meaning of some ancient philosophical question, when the hair on her arms will stand straight up, like she’s been electrocuted. Each and every time, Rey’s eyes will wander the room until they land on Ben, who’ll be staring at her with a strange, unfathomable expression. Rey figures he’s always in the middle of devising some new plan to out-maneuver her, to make himself look better in the eyes of the professor, so she usually ignores him. 

But sometimes…

A couple weeks ago, when Rey was having a particularly bad day - it happens every so often, nothing to worry about, really - Ben stopped at her desk after class let out. The other students had trickled from the room, Kaydel Connix promising to send her some notes later. Rey’s attention had drifted during the last half of class, her eyes heavy after another night of no sleep.

She was struggling to fit her books in her pack; she hadn’t eaten in almost four days, and her eyes were blurry and tired. A folder slipped from her grasp and hit the floor on the other side of the desk, and for a single, blinding second Rey considered shoving her pack to the ground, gripping both sides of her head, and letting loose a scream that would shake the very foundations of the campus building. 

But then a large hand appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and grabbed the folder. Rey slowly followed the hand as it gently tucked the folder into her backpack, between her philosophy binder and textbook. When she finally looked up, she was somehow unsurprised to see Ben Solo standing before her. Of _course_ he would be witness to her humiliation, no matter how slight.

“You dropped this,” he said, his face devoid of emotion. But there was something in his voice. It took Rey a moment to figure it out; he wasn’t teasing or mocking or just generally being an ass. His voice was soft and low, like she was a wild animal on the verge of charging.

This only incensed and exhausted her, in equal measure.

She drew her pack closer to her chest and glared at him. “I’ve got it.”

“Just trying to help,” he said in that same soft, mild tone. Then, “Do you...need anything?”

Rey almost laughed. _Need_ anything? She needed _everything_! Besides, what could _he_ possibly do to help? Mister Hot-Shot Stud. The very idea was laughable. 

Ben Solo’s a decade older than her, in his late-twenties, and he has a cushy job on campus in the university archives. He owns a fancy silver car and lives in an actual house - well, she assumes the latter, based on his nice clothes and expensive-looking watch. He probably has a nice girlfriend too, or maybe even a fiance who waits for him to come home so they can eat dinner together. Ben’s smart, and - overlooking his arrogance - eager to learn and help others.

Knowing all of this made Rey tired. Looking into his eyes and seeing the kindness there hurt her heart, for reasons not entirely clear to her. Maybe it was just the knowledge that he already had his life together while she struggled to make it minute-to-minute. 

So she said, avoiding his eyes, “Everything’s fine,” then grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and darted from the room. 

Now, standing at the counter of Fondor’s Finds, staring blatantly at the cashier as she snuck peeks at her while bagging up the clothes, Rey remembers this moment with conflicting feelings. On the one hand, Ben had actually been...kind. Sort of. But on the other hand, Ben had probably been feeling her out, looking for a weakness he could exploit to get ahead.

Kindness is never free. 

“Here you go!” the cashier chirps, handing over the bags. Rey smiles thankfully and extends Ben’s debit card. 

“Oh no!” the girl says, a big smile on her face. “That’s all covered. You’re good to go!”

Rey stares blankly back at the girl, not comprehending this. “But I didn’t pay,” she says slowly, wondering if she’s somehow started speaking another language no one else knows.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it! It’s all covered.” And in an extremely dizzying moment of deja vu, the cashier glances behind her at the next student in line, waving them forward. Effectively dismissing Rey.

She stands there with no small amount of confusion until the customer comes up behind her. The cashier looks at Rey, her smile dimming a little, and Rey can feel the eyes of the girl behind her too. Uncomfortably, Rey shuffles away from the counter. 

“Oh,” she says to no one. “Um.”

The hair on the back of her neck prickles. Rey’s always been prone to bouts of paranoia, and right now she feels a wave of it threatening to break over her. She quickly walks away from the storefront, her mind slowly beginning to churn past the confusion. 

_What is going on? Is today Pass It Forward Day or something?_ This has never happened to Rey before. Definitely not twice in one day. Twice in a _row_. She can’t help but feel like something else is going on here. 

_Not everything’s a conspiracy!_ her second-to-last foster mother had snapped at her many, many years ago. Rey can’t remember the context of the conversation now, but she does remember that she’d been convinced something bad was happening because bad people were _making_ it happen. 

Is this bad, though? Rey’s getting all this stuff for free, essentially. Even though she has Ben’s stolen money, she hasn’t had to dish out a single dollar. The guilt that’s been simmering inside her bubbles. _So I stole his wallet for no reason?_ she thinks to herself, turning a corner. _It was all for nothing?_

Swallowing, Rey halts by a park bench and sets her bags down. She unzips her pack and rearranges the food inside, making more room for her new items. As she does, she looks up quickly, fear lancing through her chest. Is someone staring at her from behind that tree? She squints, but after a long twenty seconds, decides that it’s just the shadow of a streetlight. Inhaling deeply, Rey finishes organizing her things and sets the pack on her shoulders again.

 _One more place,_ she tells herself. _One more and then I can go._

Home. She wants to say, “I can go home,” but that’s not true. Not possible. 

For the past six months, Rey’s been living with a foster friend. She met Finn last fall, at the beginning of the semester. He’d gotten out of the foster-care system three years ago. A fellow orphan. He owns a small flat two blocks beyond campus. 

When The Bad Months became The Worst Months, Finn took Rey in. She’s been sleeping on a couch in his upstairs study. With no money and no way to contribute save for her own two hands, Rey’s been acting as the unofficial maid for Finn and his other two roommates. 

No matter how many times Finn tells her she doesn’t have to clean the dishes, she doesn’t have to wash all their linens and rugs, she doesn’t have to organize the pantry, clean the bathrooms, weed the front lawn, sweep and dust, Rey does it anyway. She can’t stand being in anyone’s debt, even to a friend like Finn. 

But Rey is tired. So, so tired. Finn’s couch is lumpy and unkind to her back, so sleeping has become more of an amenity rather than a commodity. If she gets five hours a night, she considers herself lucky. 

Rey doesn’t eat Finn’s or his roommates’ food either, even when her stomach’s been growling all day. It’s not hers; it doesn’t _belong_ to her. So she usually ends up eating the single pack of ramen she manages to find quarters for, and that’s her meal for the day. Which is better than other days, when she eats nothing at all.

Oh, and Rey can’t forget the fact that she doesn’t have a job anymore either. The reminder always stops her heart. Before she turned eighteen she was working under the table as a waitress while also handling a full course-load. The ten-hour shifts had been so tiring, made her so dizzy and so overwhelmed that she...well, she blacked out in the break room during a shift and had to be taken to the hospital. She left before they could get any details and hasn’t been back to the job since.

Talk about being a total failure. 

Now, as Rey makes her way to her third and final stop, she considers her next moves. Her university scholarship is good for two years, so she won’t have to worry about paying until she’s a junior. That’s good. Good, but not great. It doesn’t cover room and board expenses. A problem for another day though. Her more immediate concern - and when isn’t it? - is her food situation. 

Thanks to her spectacularly traumatizing upbringing, Rey can subsist on a minimal amount of food. She can, and often does, go two or more days without eating, no problem. It’s only now - day four - that the problems really start. Dizziness, dry mouth, heart palpitations, weakness, shaking. She can handle all that - it’s difficult, of course, but she manages. 

Well, mostly. Sometimes her desperation gets the best of her, and her starved mind will come up with bad ideas, like stealing her classmate’s wallet. Rey swallows and banishes the thought.

 _But where will I live?_ she thinks, returning to a familiar worry. _I can’t mooch off Finn forever. And once I leave there, where will I go?_ Prices off-campus are significantly cheaper than those on the campus itself, but even the dirt-cheap rentals are still hundreds of dollars out of her price range. 

(Her price range, obviously, is zero.)

Rey stops suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. The man jogging behind her swerves to avoid a collision, throwing her a dirty look as he passes. But Rey’s eyes close, blocking him and everyone else out. She breathes in and out steadily, listening to her heartbeat slow. Keeping the panic at bay is basically a full-time job in itself, and moments like this remind her just how close she is to losing it. 

Swallowing, Rey reopens her eyes, tilting her head up so the very first thing she sees is the brilliant, cloudless blue sky above. The color and sunshine soothes her, and she begins walking again in the direction of a small, innocuous convenience store several blocks from Finn’s flat. There’s nothing particularly special about this place except for one little detail: the ATM doesn’t require a PIN for withdrawals. 

Rey doesn’t know how or why this is; if it’s a glitch in the system or simply so out-dated that the owners figure as long as the machine works there’s no issue. Regardless, Rey is going to take full advantage of this cheat. 

She enters the store and siddles up to the ATM in the corner by the front window. Inserting the card, she presses OK when it says there’ll be a two dollar fee for using an ATM unassociated with the bank. The withdrawal screen comes up, and with a bracing inhale, Rey selects the highest amount - three hundred dollars. The guilt climbs up her throat, and she snatches the money and stuffs it into her jacket pocket without looking at it. 

Rey casts a glance at the register; there’s no one in line, and the elderly woman behind the counter is reading a mechanics magazine, oblivious to Rey’s attention. Rubbing her forehead, she locates a bottle of water and a bar of dark chocolate, which supposedly helps with headaches. She brings them to the register and, still rubbing the side of her face, slips a five dollar bill across the counter.

The old woman grunts, lowering her magazine. “Can I help you?”

“Just these,” Rey says, gesturing weakly at the counter.

She grunts again, unimpressed. “Take ‘em.”

Rey sighs, unsurprised. “What.”

The old woman, whose name tag reads MAZ, grunts again. “Am I speaking another language, girl? It’s taken care of. Get your stuff and go.”

Shoulders slumping, Rey nods and accepts whatever the hell is happening. “Okay, sure,” she says weakly. 

Maz’s gaze softens. She places her magazine down for a moment and leans over the counter. “Trust in the universe,” she says knowingly, a twinkle in her eyes. “All is as the universe wills it.”

“Oh,” Rey says blankly, and with a wary glance at the woman, grabs her water and chocolate bar and rushes out the door. 

Out on the sidewalk, Rey searches the streets and stores. Is anyone watching her a little too closely? Are someone’s eyes lingering just a little too long? What was with that woman? Rey doesn’t know what’s going on, but it’s scaring her a little. She gulps down the water and breaks off a piece of chocolate, stuffing it into her mouth. Her stomach stops rumbling almost immediately. 

_Wow,_ she thinks, awed, _has chocolate always tasted like this?_ She’s just so hungry.

Almost exactly four months ago, at the very end of January, Rey was sitting in the small cafeteria available to philosophy faculty and students. She was still very much undecided, but everyone in this department had always been so nice to her, so genuine, that she doubted someone would kick her out. 

She hunched in her seat, trying to look both innocuous and like she belonged. This morning, on the way to class, she had spotted a kiosk selling bubble tea. Seized by impulse, Rey bought a small taro milk tea and sipped happily away on her walk across campus. Little did she know that her required gym class would make them run two miles on the track in the suffocating early morning humidity. 

Now Rey was dizzy again - which, by this point, was pretty much a constant state - and so hungry her stomach actually hurt. Her money was gone, wasted in a moment of pure selfishness.

All she could afford now was a small, plastic container of plain cream cheese. So, of course, she took one. It passed through her mind, however briefly, that she should cram a handful inside her jacket. No one would know as long as she was quick about it. Even if someone did notice, maybe they’d take pity on her.

But then she was at the register, handing over her single quarter, and the moment passed.

Sitting at an empty table, stomach gurgling aggressively despite the cream cheese, Rey folded her arms on the tabletop and put her head down. Her very bones ached, she was so tired. 

Although she would die before admitting this, it was hard keeping up with the dishes in Finn’s flat; his roommates were so sloppy, it almost defied belief. The one, Chewie, was unfailingly kind and polite to her, but he ate _so much_. The other roommate, Poe, was arrogance defined. She was actually uncomfortable if they were the only two in a room for any extended amount of time. Poe left dishes all over the place, and by the time she got to them they were crusted over with leftover condiments and pieces of gross-looking takeout.

There suddenly came a clatter from very close by. Rey lifted her head.

Ben Solo was pulling out a chair at her empty table. He was dressed in dark jeans and a light cotton jacket, and he was taking a seat across from her. Weirdly, he was giving her a very blatant - and, frankly, offensive - side-eye. He crossed his arms over his considerable chest and frowned at her.

“What is it,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes on the table. She was too tired to fight with him today.

He seemed to struggle for words. “Why are you in here?” he demanded, casting a look around.

“What does it _look_ like?” she snapped back, although of course the answer - to eat - wasn’t even true. The hunger was just making her crabby. 

“Nap time?” Ben arched a brow and seemed to be suppressing a smile. He had to know how much that irked her. 

“So what if I am.”

“I’m not sure the cafeteria’s the best place for that.”

Rey rolled her eyes and made as if to get up. Ben held out a placating hand, although he didn’t touch her. Some small part of her wilted with disappointment. 

“Wait.” He pushed the tray he’d set down on the table over with a single finger. “Here.”

Instantly her hackles rose. “ _What._ ”

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I already ate.”

“Then why did you buy this?” Rey’s eyes drifted hungrily over the tacos - stacked with beef, onions, salsa, and green peppers - plus a dollop of sour cream, a side dish of rice, and a cup of beans.

Ben shrugged and looked away, his jawline sharply defined by the cafeteria fluorescents. “I thought I could eat it. I was wrong.”

This surprised her enough to take her attention away from the food. “You admit you’re _wrong_?”

He huffed a laugh. “Don’t act surprised.”

Rey almost smiled before she remembered who she was talking to. Her head dipped again. “Maybe you should throw it away, then.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Um, you don’t want it?” And she would _never_ beg for scraps.

“But maybe,” he said in a voice so gentle it was nearly unbearable, “someone else does.”

He left when she didn’t respond, and for a minute - then two, three, four - Rey maintained her resolve. But it broke quite explosively when a faculty member entered the cafeteria and a strong gust of wind sent the savory smells of the rice and beans directly into her face. 

The next thing she knew, Rey was devouring everything on the tray. She had to force herself to slow down - more than once before she’d eaten in a frenzy only to puke it all up ten minutes later. But when she got to the last bit of rice, she inhaled the food like her life depended on it. Maybe it did.

She and Ben never talked about it.

Once again, Rey stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk, snapping out of this memory. This time, a group of college-aged girls part around her in a sea of greens and blues and oranges, springtime colors, and the one on the far left with the teal-colored hair smiles. 

She can’t take it anymore.

Extracting the wallet, Rey fishes for Ben’s license. She finds it tucked inside a zippered pouch with several Walmart coupons. This makes her smile a little. But then the guilt comes rolling back in, and the smile shatters. With a sigh, she resigns herself to the fifteen-block walk.

There isn’t a doorman at the entrance to Ben’s apartment complex, but there might as well be. The high-rise building screams money. Tall, willowy cypress trees dot the courtyard. (This is the city; there aren’t any trees here!) Brick and marble make up the exterior, and pillars line the way to the foyer. 

Rey casts her eyes around nervously, then back down at Ben’s license. Nothing on it that tells her his apartment number. Pulling on her hoodie, she steps inside the building. 

“Can I help you?”

The female concierge, dressed neatly in a black and white pantsuit, smiles brightly. Rey shuffles over to her counter uncertainly.

“Um,” she says, stammering, and tries again. “Hi, I’m Rey. Um, I’m h-here to return a wallet. That I found.”

“And to which resident does this wallet belong?” the concierge, Mon, asks kindly, ignoring the object in question, which Rey holds out before her. She wants to shake the wallet and tell the woman, _Please just take it!_

“It’s, um, it belongs to Ben Solo,” she says, staring at a point on the woman’s forehead. “I found it on campus. The campus.” Her cheeks burn. What is she saying? Can she be any more obvious?

“Ah, yes, Mr. Solo.” Mon’s fingers tap-tap-tap away at her keyboard, and her eyes flicker over the computer monitor. “He’s on floor twenty.”

 _Should she be telling me this?_ Rey wonders, confused and a little concerned. _Isn’t that private information?_

Mon looks at her expectantly, and she suddenly realizes the problem.

“Oh,” she says, clearing her throat and holding the wallet close to her chest. Her fingers squeeze and unsqueeze, squeeze and unsqueeze it anxiously. “I’m - I just wanted to drop it off. No need for me to see him. So can I leave it here...with you?” Rey doesn’t know how any of this works, and the stuffy atmosphere is making her uncomfortable.

“That won’t be necessary,” Mon says cheerily. She gestures toward the elevators. “Mr. Solo is home. You can go right up.”

Her heart slams in her chest. “W-what?!” Rey shakes her head rapidly. “No, no, there’s been a misunderstanding. I don’t want to see him, I just -”

Mon laughs lightly. “Listen - Rey, yes?” She nods warily. “Rey, Mr. Solo rarely receives guests, let alone female ones. But he’s mentioned you in the past, and I have no doubt he’ll be happy to see you.”

Rey gapes at the concierge, speechless. _He’s- ? I’m- ? What?_

She knows she should just set the wallet down on the counter, turn around, and walk away. Mon will have no choice but to return the wallet herself then. But, uh, before she goes, though, maybe she should ask about this whole “rarely receives female guests” thing. Just out of curiosity.

But instead, Rey opens her mouth and blurts, “Ben’s _mentioned_ me?” 

Mon’s smile blooms across her face, so bright and so hopeful Rey can’t help but feel like she’s just walked blindly into a trap. “Oh, yes! Mr. Solo _sings_ your praises. It’s really quite endearing. He’s said you’re the brightest woman he’s ever met.”

Rey’s chest is tight, and she coughs to relieve some of the pressure. “Um, that’s...” Her voice falters and then falls away completely. 

Mon’s face softens. “Rey. Everything’s going to be okay. Really.” Then she straightens and adds sternly, “You’ll see Mr. Solo now.”

As if in a dream, Rey finds herself floating towards the elevators. Someone presses a button, Mon nods encouragingly from behind the concierge desk, and then the doors are opening, she’s stepping inside, and suddenly she’s rocketing up. Her eyes land on the panel of buttons.

 _Twenty,_ she thinks thickly. _Floor twenty._ It’s the topmost button.

Anxiously, Rey holds the wallet to her chest like it’s the only thing keeping her from drowning. From the second she decided to return the wallet to Ben, to tell him that she’s the one who stole it and spent all of his money, not once did she consider that she’d have to do so face-to-face. _Maybe I’ll leave a note,_ she’d thought naively. _Maybe I’ll just leave it with my name at the desk, and that’ll be enough._

But no. Of course not. Things are never that easy. 

_Okay,_ she tells herself now, watching the buttons as they light up floor-by-floor: thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. _Okay, okay, okay. I can do this. I did a bad thing, I stole the wallet, and I can accept the consequences. I’m officially an adult now. I can handle this._

The guilt that’s been tearing up her stomach has lessened, thankfully, but now an even worse emotion has taken over - fear. 

_What if he’s angry with me?_ she thinks, eyes on the buttons. Sixteenth floor and rising. 

_What if I tell him and he tries to hurt me?_ She doesn’t really believe he will, doesn’t believe he even has the capacity for something like that, but the worry is there anyway, lurking in the back of her mind beside memories of traumatic foster-care encounters. 

_What if he throws me out? What if he calls the police?_

_Will I go to jail?_

This thought doesn’t instill as much fear as she assumes it will. In fact, the thought of having somewhere to stay, somewhere warm and relatively safe, with regular meals given to her three times a day like clock-work, with clothes and a bed and reading material that won’t be stolen if she turns her back for a minute…

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen. The elevator continues its inevitable rise. 

Rey resigns herself to a nine-one-one call, an embarrassing escort out of Ben’s building, a ride in the back of a cop car, and a year or more in jail. _Maybe this is for the best_ , she thinks quietly, numbly. _I did steal, after all. This is what I deserve._

Twenty. 

The doors open. 

Rey steps into the apartment, heart in her throat. And her breath leaves her in a rush. 

The apartment is beautiful. High ceilings, solid colors, lots of bright sunshine. The place is undoubtedly masculine, but it’s decorated well; gleaming chrome fixtures, cherrywood furniture, and a distinctly sandalwood scent in the air. Pictures of what must be his parents dot the mantelpiece. Several thick tomes are stacked on the coffee table. A dark blue blanket has been tossed over the arm of a cozy chair in the corner. Everything is clean and spacious and warm. 

Tears unexpectedly blur Rey’s vision. It feels like a home. 

Rey stumbles to a halt when Ben appears from a connecting hallway. She looks at him, wide-eyed, wallet clutched to her chest, and the expression on his face... 

_He’s already called them._

Ben doesn’t move when he speaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

His voice is so low she almost doesn’t understand him. But then the question registers, and despite herself, the words bubble up. 

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, clinging tightly to his wallet, even though she knows she’ll have to let go. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I’ve been -” _So hungry._ “- stressed out, and I thought maybe -” _I could make things okay for myself._ “- if I could just get some groceries to last me another week -” _Or two or three if I stretch it._ “- then maybe...I…” Rey trails off when Ben’s expression remains unchanged. 

They stand in silence, regarding one another. 

Quietly, Rey bends and places his wallet on the tile floor. Her throat is so tight, she has to force the words out. “I understand if you’ve called them already.” 

“What?” The question pops from his mouth in a hard, angry burst. 

“The police,” she says miserably, staring at the floor. 

Silence. 

Rey finds it unbearable, but she can’t move. With nothing to clutch, her fingers dig at her bare legs. Maybe if she claws deep enough, she’ll disappear. Her chest is caving in, her mouth desert-dry. She wonders if Finn will be angry there’s no one around to clean up Poe’s messes anymore. She wonders how long it’ll take for them to notice she’s gone. 

There’s a sound, a soft, broken sound, like someone’s just been punched in the gut. Rey dares to look up. Ben is still staring at her, but his face is no longer hard and angry. In fact, it looks like he’s just received news of a loved one’s death. Ashen-faced. Lips down-turned. Body limp. 

“Rey,” he says, and her name on his lips sounds different from the way everyone else says it. 

Ben sways toward her, but when she stiffens instinctually, he stills. 

“Rey,” he says again, keeping his voice low. “I didn’t call the cops.” 

She stares at him, unseeing. _But you did,_ she thinks, confused. _That’s how this ends. Isn’t it?_

“I would never do that,” he insists, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Little by little, Rey feels herself being drawn back into the here and now. His eyes are so brown and clear, like pools of liquid chocolate. They burn into her with such heat, Rey’s breath catches. 

“I don’t understand,” she says finally, confused and unconvinced. He seemed so _angry_ just a minute ago. Rightfully so. 

“You’re not in trouble,” he explains, palms outstretched as if to calm her. “I’m not angry with you.” 

“But -” 

He shakes his head, and her words fall away. “I knew you had my wallet.” 

Rey’s heart stops...stutters...and starts again with a lurch. “W-what? What do you mean?” She feels faint. 

As if he can sense it, Ben gestures to his sofa. “Can we sit?” 

Rey nods - what else can she do, really? Ben doesn’t move as she slowly walks toward him. Up close, he is so much taller than she imagined. Sure, they’ve been in close quarters before, but usually sitting down or separated by other people. Now, toe-to-toe, Rey has to almost crane her neck to see his face. He’s half a foot taller, at the very least. 

She passes him, and although he refrains from touching her, she senses his hands hovering by her waist, as if to catch her should she fall. 

“I don’t understand,” she says again once she’s seated on the sofa. Usually in a case like this, she’d be on the very edge of her seat, knees bouncing restlessly, alert and ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. 

But for whatever reason, Rey sinks deep into the cushions, her body falling limp and lax like she’s just run a mile in the hot sun. Her hands are clenched in her lap, but otherwise…. The second Ben told her the cops aren’t coming, the fear and anxiety fled. 

Ben sighs, running a hand through his mane of long, black hair. It covers his ears and falls just above his shoulders. She’s always thought it beautiful. 

“I felt you take my wallet in class. When I was talking to Professor Wexley.” He laughs a little. “At first I thought maybe you were leaving me a note or something.” 

“Why would I do that?” she blurts without thinking. 

The tips of Ben’s ears blush. “Well, I…” He clears his throat and doesn’t finish the thought. “Anyway. I didn’t mind.” 

"But _why_?” she asks, shocked. “Why didn’t you stop me if you knew I had your wallet?” She doesn’t tell him that she would’ve practically beamed him with the thing the second he came within range. She’s hungry and desperate but not _stupid_. He could smack her to the floor with a flick of his wrist, if he's so inclined. 

“Rey.” Just her name. But, somehow, it’s enough. 

Instinctively, Rey turns on the sofa to face him. Their knees bump, and neither of them moves away. She stares into his face, wanting him to spell it out for her. She’s starting to have some idea what’s happening, but it’s difficult to believe. That’s the thing about hope - it blinds you to reality. 

He inhales and lets the breath out slowly. “It’s no secret to me that you’ve been...struggling.” 

Rey’s hand flies to her stomach. He notes the motion but doesn’t address it. 

“It makes me…” He falters. “I don’t like seeing it. I don’t like knowing you need food but aren’t getting any.” 

Her hands start to shake, even as she clenches them into fists on her thighs. _Shame, shame, shame._ She stares into her lap, unable to maintain eye contact. 

Ben’s hand drifts into view and very, very gently covers both of hers. “I don’t like seeing you in pain, Rey.” 

She swallows thickly. “It’s okay.” 

“ _No_ ,” he insists, his voice loud, startling. “It’s _not_ okay. The fact that you’re hungry and tired and- Rey, I see the dark circles under your eyes every week, I can’t pretend that I don’t notice. Your struggling makes me…” His jaw clenches. “I can’t tell you how it makes me feel.” 

“Why not?” she whispers, staring at his hand over hers. How large they are. How calloused and veined and thick. How warm. 

A pause. “It would scare you.” 

A shiver flickers down her spine at his low voice. It does something to her stomach. “Tell me anyway.” 

He laughs again, but there’s nothing nice about it. But she senses it’s directed entirely at himself, not at her. “Have you ever wondered who leaves fruit on your desk every morning?” 

Rey frowns. How does he know about that? 

“Why I pester you about your notes?” 

He _does_ often get annoyingly persistent about that. It’s usually near the end of class, as the professor’s winding down but before students begin to pack up. Ben will demand to see her notes, and he’ll scan them with a strange amount of concentration, as if checking everything’s been written down to his exact specifications. She’s always assumed he does it to confirm the superiority of his own notes. 

“Why I gave you my lunch that day early in the semester?” 

His tray of tacos. 

Ben’s relentless. “Why I always volunteer to be your partner? And bring snacks to our group project meetings? Why I check in by email twice a week?” 

“Why do you email me?” she asks, finally managing to get a word in. Out of everything, it’s the emails that befuddle her the most. He’ll usually send it on the days they don’t have class, around noon. She doesn’t typically respond unless he references something they learned in class that week. 

Ben gently touches her chin, nudging her face up. His eyes are so warm, and so close. 

“I leave you fruit and bring snacks so I’ll know you’ve eaten at least once that day,” he explains softly, eyes never leaving hers. “I want to see your notes to make sure you haven’t faded away again.” 

Again? she wonders distantly, her mind lost in the sound of his voice. Has she really never noticed how pleasing it is, how _insanely_ attractive? 

“You don’t realize it,” he says, as if reading her earlier thoughts, “but I’ll glance over and see you’re somewhere far away from the rest of us.” His finger touches the corner of her mouth. “I volunteer to be your partner to get close to you. To, uh, spend time with you. And I email you to make sure you’re...okay.” 

“Why….” she asks, stammering. “Why are you being so honest with me?” 

Ben makes a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. “All this time I’ve wanted to tell you. I thought if I was subtle, maybe you’d see…” He shakes his head. “It’s all my fault.” He suddenly becomes intense, his grip on her chin tightening. “You have to understand, Rey, it’s never been my intention to hurt you.” 

“Have you?” She’s unable to speak in anything but a whisper. 

His brow furrows. “Have I?” 

“Hurt me.” 

Ben swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No, but I’m afraid I will.” 

“Tell me why,” she demands, her voice stronger. She grabs him by the wrist, and his fingers jerk on her chin. She doesn’t put any pressure on him, but instead lets her hand rest there, fingers wrapped around his pulse. “Tell me.” 

“ _Rey_ ,” he sighs, moving closer to her on the sofa. “I’ll do anything for you, do you know that? _Anything_.” 

She watches him, breathless. Ben cups the back of her neck, and places his other hand on her waist. His palm is heavy and hot. She isn’t sure who moves first, but suddenly they’re less than an inch apart, bodies falling into each other. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says against her lips. “But I’ve been so cautious. I don’t want to scare you.” 

“Why….would I be...scared?” Rey’s finding it a little hard to think right now. 

He laughs gently, his breath slipping past her lips, into her mouth. She tastes him, savors him. 

“I’m ten years older than you. Practically ancient.” He swallows hard, the motion pushing their lips together. Rey moans a little. “An old man.” 

“Do you see me as a little kid?” 

“ _No_ ,” he says vehemently. 

“Good. I want you too.” 

And Ben kisses her. 

Their mouths meld together as if they were made that way. Made to be one. Lips fusing, tongues touching tip-to-tip, sucking as if each can inhale the other. 

Rey’s arms wind around his neck, and she climbs into his lap. He groans, his heart thumping against her own, the two of them pressed chest-to-chest. She feels his erection through the seat of her shorts, and the feel of it, the pure _maleness_ of it, makes her gasp. Their lips part, and Rey sees a wildness in Ben’s eyes that sends a thrill down her spine. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you and lick you and suck you since the moment you told me your name,” he breathes, his hands sliding up into her hair, pulling out the bands that bind it into three buns. 

More kissing. More touching: hips, thighs, backs, shoulders. His hands rove all over, stopping just shy of her breasts. Rey arcs into his touch. 

“I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve imagined bending you over the professor’s desk,” he sighs into her neck, nibbling along her collarbone. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she gasps, her mind alight with these possibilities. 

Ben’s hands fall to her hips and gently caress. With his face buried in her neck, mouth busy on her skin, she finds her view unobstructed. Over his broad shoulder, she sees the city sprawled out below, the sky lit up in hues of purple and orange and pink. _Romantic colors,_ she tells herself. 

Then she remembers the wallet. 

“Ben,” she stammers, suddenly filled with shame again. But his hands remain on her hips, his mouth suctioned to her neck. He doesn’t hear her. 

Rey tries again. “Ben, _wait_.” Firmly, she pushes against his chest. 

Although her touch is barely there, the definition of gentle, Ben jerks back as if electrocuted. His eyes, wild with lust before, are wild for a different reason now. 

“Have I hurt you? Are you okay?” His hands frantically skim her neck and torso. 

“Ben,” she repeats, and places her hands on either side of his face. He stills instantly. “I’m fine.” 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Tell me what’s wrong. Did I go too far?” 

His obvious worries make it easier to breathe. “No,” she tells him confidently. “You did nothing wrong.” She licks her dry, swollen lips. “But I need you to explain about the wallet.” 

“The wall-” Ben pauses and tilts his head. It’s such a puppy-dog look that a smile pulls at the corners of Rey’s mouth, and she finds herself leaning forward to kiss his dimples. 

“Yes,” she murmurs, surprised by her actions. “The wallet. If you knew I’d taken it, why did you let me spend all that money?” 

At the mention of money, her chest tightens and her hands grow clammy on his chest. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” she adds, toying with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll pay you back.” 

“No,” he says firmly, shifting so she looks up at him. “There’s no need for that. I’ve told you already; I don’t like seeing you in pain.” 

“Um...you know I sometimes…” Rey has never talked about her homelessness or the starvation that often accompanies it. She hasn’t realized until just now how difficult it is to find the words to explain herself. 

He nods, and Rey falls silent, relieved. 

“But,” she adds, unable to let it go completely, “if you were okay with me spending your money, why did all those people let me take things for free?” 

Ben grins shyly. “I’ve noticed you shop at those stores every week. I told them a long time ago that if you were to show up with my card - I shop there too, you know - they should let you have anything you wanted, no cost.” 

Her eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. “But won’t you have to pay for all that stuff later anyway?” 

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Money’s not really an issue at the moment.” 

She can see that. 

“How did you know I’d eventually steal your card?” 

Now Ben looks embarrassed. His cheeks blush pink, and Rey finds the sight absolutely adorable. She kisses him again. And again. 

“Tell me,” she insists breathlessly. “I won’t be mad.” 

“It’s not that,” he assures her, still blushing. 

Rey tilts her head questioningly, and he kisses the tip of her nose. 

“What is it, then?” 

“God, you’re persistent,” he murmurs, his hands kneading her hips again. _It’s like a comfort thing for him,_ she thinks warmly. 

“Someone taught me well,” she teases, and Ben smiles at her, his eyes soft. “Now,” she continues, “I am not to be deterred. Ben Solo, you _will_ tell me what I want to know!" 

Rey slides her hands up his chest, pleased by his low rumble, and loops her arms around his neck, bringing their foreheads together. She wiggles a little in his lap. “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” she demands, molding herself to him. 

She’s never said she plays fair. 

Ben groans and closes his eyes. “This is the part I don’t want to tell you.” 

“You have to,” she argues lightly. “I leave you no choice.” 

“If you insist.” He opens his eyes so they can see each other. “But first, let me tell you a story.” 

Rey almost frowns but catches herself at the last second. “Oh...okay.” 

He presses their lips together for a long, quiet moment. Rey feels herself getting drawn back into him, and she knows - whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or maybe even next week - that there will come a time when she’s unable to pull away. 

Ben finally breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. “The story goes like this. There was once a young teenager who fucked around a lot. He got help almost too late. When he finally realized what he really wanted to do in life, he found people who would help him. Get a place to live. Go back to school. Get a degree. Sober up.” He smiles a little, and she traces his lips with her fingers. 

“So this young teenager turns into a young man. And this man’s got ideas. Take classes. Get a good job. Manage bills and insurance and become an adult. And he did it all,” he says, and the expression on his face makes Rey melt into a dewy-eyed puddle. He’s proud, she can see it. Proud and unabashedly delighted by his accomplishments. 

“Then one day he walks into philosophy class,” Ben continues, eyes on hers, smile softening, “and he sees a girl. He sees her right away. She’s in the middle of the room, sitting with her legs folded under the desk. There are smudges under her eyes, and she’s wearing leggings and a baggy hoodie. And her hair,” he says, touching a wayward strand lightly, “is in this unusual arrangement. Three buns.” 

Rey doesn’t dare breathe. 

His voice is hushed now. “This girl introduces herself, and from that moment on, the man dedicates way too much time thinking about her. What she likes to do in her free time. Who her friends are. What she finds funny. What scares her. If she prefers romantic comedies to psychological thrillers. He wants to know everything, and the more time he spends with her in class, the more he wants to know her out of it. 

“But he can’t quite muster up the nerve,” he continues with a shy smile. “He knows there’s a significant amount of time and experience between them, and he’d prefer to keep their relationship as is rather than make her even a little uncomfortable.” Ben inhales slowly. 

“The man starts to notice certain things after the first few weeks of the semester. How the girl always looks tired. How she winces sometimes when a classmate drops a book on the floor. How she’s so, so thin.” Ben traces a light finger down her throat. “So thin a strong gust of wind might take her away. He can hear her stomach rumbling in the middle of class.” 

Rey looks down. 

Ben swallows. “He worries about her. Worries that she’s going to get hurt. Worries that she’s _being_ hurt. Worries that something’s going to happen and he won’t be able to stop it. Worries that one day she’ll disappear.” 

Her throat tightens and tears prick the backs of her eyes. “Ben,” she whispers, touching his face. 

“He vows to do everything he can,” Ben rasps. “No matter what it is. No matter when, or how, or why. He wants to help her like he was helped. But it’s more than that.” He licks his lips. “The man wants this girl so badly it keeps him up at night. He wants her so much that sometimes, when he sees her struggling to stay awake in class, it gets a little hard to breathe.” 

Silent tears drip down Rey’s cheeks. How could she have known that’s what she looks like from the outside? Has it really been so bad? 

“And when she takes his wallet one day at the end of class, he’s not worried. For once,” he adds with a small laugh. “Because he knows what she’s going to do with it. And,” he says, his voice very, very soft, “because he told the store workers he’s going to make that girl his. He’s going to give her everything.” 

_Everything._

“Rey,” Ben says finally. “What’s mine is yours. My heart belongs to you.” 

She shakes her head, denying instinctively. There’s no way - He can’t just - All this time Rey’s thought they both operated under the same modus operandi: outshine the other at all costs. Tolerate group projects, but decimate each other in the classroom. Should she have known? Should she have at least _guessed_? 

“We’ve known each other for almost five months,” he continues gently, ignoring her reaction. “And it’s clear to me now that you’ve been under the illusion I’m nothing but an academic rival. I see now that I should’ve been more...obvious with my affections.” 

Ben shifts her in his lap. “You don’t have to say anything, but I want you to know that I…” He has to pause to clear his throat. “I want to take care of you, Rey. I’ll give you anything you need. You don’t have to steal,” he adds softly, pressing his forehead to hers. 

Unexpectedly, Rey starts to sob. She pulls her hands from his cheeks and covers her face, embarrassed and ashamed but unable to stifle herself. To think she’s been fooling no one. To think he’s seen through her so _easily_. To think he’s been trying to care for her from afar while she sinks deeper and deeper, trying desperately to keep up. Trying and failing. 

To think someone _cares_. 

Ben makes soft, soothing sounds, his hands lightly brushing across her back. He doesn’t tell her to hush, he doesn’t say that everything will be okay, and Rey is so thankful for this small mercy. She leans into his chest and lets her tears flow, knowing that to try and tamp them down would be, at this point, useless. 

After ten minutes - or maybe it’s twenty, maybe it’s an hour, Rey has no idea - her sobs finally dissolve into sniffles and hiccups. Her head is on his chest, right above his heart, and listening to the steady, rhythmic beat calms her. It reminds her that she’s here, that he’s here too, and so she’s not alone. 

Rey swallows thickly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t ever apologize,” he murmurs into her hair, fingers stroking down her arms. “I want you to be okay.” 

Tears well in her eyes again, as if he’s spoken the magic words. But this time she has enough self-control to keep them at bay. 

Not trusting herself to speak, she nods into his shirt. 

A sigh shudders from deep in his chest. “ _Rey_.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a long, long time. 

Drowsiness descends, and she finds that her eyes are suddenly too heavy to keep open. She’s long overdue for a nap. Just a small one... 

But then Ben’s voice floats above her head, so soft it might be a stray thought. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave.” 

Rey lifts her head and looks him in the eye. How could she? How could she _ever_ leave him? Can’t he see they’re connected now? Can’t he see how his very presence fills up all her empty spots? 

Ben’s jaw is clenched, his eyes worried. Maybe he expected her to be asleep. 

Rey keeps her eyes on his as she pulls down the collar of his short-sleeved shirt. It stretches just far enough. She leans forward and presses a kiss to his heart, lingering on his skin. The smell of him is intoxicating; she loses herself for a few precious seconds. 

But then she straightens in his lap. 

“Move in with me.” Ben’s voice is low. 

“Okay.” 

Shock flickers across his face. “Just like that?” 

Rey nods. “Just like that.” Then she adds, “But I don’t have any money to-” 

Ben kisses her roughly. “We’ll figure it out.” 

With a hard kiss of her own, Rey murmurs, “I’m not going to leave you. So please don’t...” She breathes him in, suddenly nervous. “Don’t leave me either, Ben.” 

“Never,” he promises rapturously. 

Ben folds her into his arms, keeping her close to his heart, and together they watch as the sun sets and the moon rises to take its place. 

**Author's Note:**

> **This hurt my heart oop. Like I actually teared up? Any story involving Rey's PTSD and abandonment issues, no matter how briefly, just kind of fucks me uppppp every time. We stan pain in this fandom.**
> 
> **OTHER WORKS**
> 
> Fluff
> 
> [Saving What We Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328586) (complete)  
> [#dirtytextchallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25771213) (oneshot)  
> [The Artist's Garden At Giverny (1900)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307039) (oneshot)  
> [Only By Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673103) (oneshot)  
> [Love Only Matters When We Bleed For It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415190) (complete)
> 
> Darkfics
> 
> [if you can't live without me, why aren't you dead yet?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25361551) (WIP)  
> [drenched](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117876) (WIP)  
> [I've Got A Dark Alley & A Bad Idea (That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814914) (oneshot)  
> [never bet the devil your head](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24609829) (complete)  
> [slowly therefore surely](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639642) (oneshot--for now)  
> [Chasm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962308) (complete)  
> [In Our Darkest Hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810736) (complete)  
> [Stifle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724003) (oneshot)  
> [Aggressive Expansion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26568556) (complete)
> 
> ~~say hi! (or come yell at me)~~  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/naboojakku)  
> [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/naboojakku/?hl=en)


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